


Fairy Godfather

by deadminecraftfandoms



Series: HermitKingdoms AU [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: F/F, basically cleo and stress are badass lesbian princesses, cleo hates princess tropes, doc is a fairy, he actually rocks the role, i don't know how to tag, i don't really know what to say for this, i don't talk too much about them though, i mean he's the goatfather even in this, i mean who doesn't but she hates it more, it's mostly doc talking to cleo, it's too short so i made it a series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:54:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26406829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadminecraftfandoms/pseuds/deadminecraftfandoms
Summary: Cleo hates the princess tropes.Unfortunately for her, she's a princess.But hey, at least she doesn't have a fairy godmother.....~**~This is my first work on ao3, please don't judge, I don't know how to tag, oh it's based off a tumblr prompt
Relationships: ZombieCleo/Stressmonster
Series: HermitKingdoms AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919317
Kudos: 24





	Fairy Godfather

She knew how totally cliche this was, but Cleo was tired of being a princess.

Sure there were good parts: she was allowed to go on horse rides, her betrothed from the northern kingdom, Stress, was just amazing and she genuinely loved her, and her best friend, Joe, was just appointed as a scribe, which were on the same social tier as nobility, so he was able to hang out with her in the castle without anyone having to sneak away from anything.

But by gods, did being royal have to be so bloody boring?

Sit here, laugh at his jokes, appear at the bookstore opening (okay, fine, that one was pretty cool. Free books!), read about all these laws. The lawbooks were the worst.

Ugh, just kill her now, would they?

Cleo was skimming through a decent storybook about dragons and adventure on her bed when it happened. She was about to say she liked the book, but then she was hit in the face with a damsel in distress trope, the princess stuck in the tower, waiting for her brave, handsome prince to slay the fearsome beast because it frightened her ever so much.

Cleo snorted, slamming the book shut and tossing it to the floor. Princesses weren't like that. At least, none of the ones she knew. Not even soft, nice Stress would wait alone for some dude to come up and "save" her. Nope, she'd hike up her dress and throw a shoe in the dragon's eye.

She remembered a conversation she once had with her betrothed, about the stupid damsel-in-distress stuff. Stress had said the only reason she would wait like she couldn't do anything was if Cleo would be the one to show up, slay the beast, and win her hand. She wasn't sitting around for no man!

Oh, how the public of both kingdoms stirred when they found out their precious princess was to marry another woman. Cleo and Stress silenced the homophobic mutters with a kiss, short and sweet. Everyone realized that, for once, these two actually loved each other, and their marriage wouldn't just be for a peace agreement.

But right now, in the present, Cleo was alone in her giant princess bedroom, reading bad literature. She would kill for a spar with that one knight, False, the only knight that would let her fight. Or to be hanging out with Stress, or Joe.

"I wish I could show them," she said aloud, "the people who want me to sit around and be a princess. I'm not a stupid prissy princess that sings to birds with a heart of gol-"

"Sounds terrible."

Cleo shrieked, instinctively grabbing the closest thing next to her and hurling it toward the source of the voice. Unfortunately, that closest thing was a pillow, and it bounced off the figure leaning against the wall doing no harm.

Stupid bedrooms with all these pillows.

The first thing Cleo noticed of the figure was its tall, glamorous wings, and her immediate response, without even thinking, was "Oh, my gods, please do NOT tell me you're my fairy godmother, I've had enough of princess stereotypes."

Then she realized the voice was far too deep for a woman, and the figure had a beard, a very formally dangerous-looking set of clothes, and green-tinged skin.

"Greetings, Princess Cleo," the fairy said, his gravelly voice tinted with the accent of the eastern lands.

"..... who are you?" was her reply as she mentally reviewed all of the cautions and requirements of talking to fae. You didn't have to follow those when speaking with fairy godmothers, because their sole job is to help royals, but unknown fae, especially men like this one, were dangerous, so she's been told.

He smirked. "You may call me Doc. And no, I am not your fairy godmother, though I am close."

"Close, huh?" Cleo thought about this for a bit. "So.... since you're a guy, are you called a fairy godfather?"

Doc's grin widened. "Got it in one. But godfather often means something more than just someone watching over you, honorarily family."

Cleo's confusion grew. "So what does it mean then?"

Instead of answering this immediately, Doc began walking around her bedroom, taking in the sight. The princess was relieved the room was never the pretty pink people assumed it was. The decorators of her rooms always used royal purples and deep greens to greatly contrast her coppery hair and ridiculously pale complexion, as well as bring out the green of her eyes.

He picked up a book that was sitting on her desk in a spot of what Cleo considered a spot of honor: she didn't throw it out or deface it, therefore it wasn't bad or sexist. "I see you're familiar with guilds," Doc said, referencing the book. It involved society split into official groups based on their expertise and jobs. "Well, I'm the leader of one in our world."

"What do you do?" Cleo asked, not sure if she was ready for the answer.

The godfather chuckled. "You've heard of assassins, no? Hitmen?"

Cleo was speechless.

"We call ourselves GOAT," Doc continued. "Grind, Optimize, Automate, Thrive. People call me the GOATfather occasionally. A pun."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute." Cleo took a deep breath, trying to process it all. "So, like, did my parents hire you like people do with fairy godmothers? Or are you just- did you just choose me?"

Doc turned back to Cleo, his smirk still visible. "The latter. Your parents did hire a fairy godmother for you- but you would likely scare her off anyway. We took care of her- nonono, we didn't kill her or anything," he hastily added to Cleo's sharp gasp. "We just made sure she was reassigned, you know, to another young lady not as strong as you, pulled a few strings, got me into the running for your caretaking, maybe rigged it so I won....."

"..... whoa," Cleo chuckled a bit, "you're hardcore."

"So I've been told. Anyways." Doc held out a hand, obviously expecting Cleo to shake it. Seeing her hesitation, because she wasn't an idiot, she wasn't about to make a deal with a fae, he added, "I promise me nor my accomplices will never put you in any form of harm. Though I may not do proper wish granting, we will have your back as a mob."

Cleo looked at the outstretched hand, then made eye contact with Doc.

He didn't seem terrible. A little scary, but then again, that's how everyone describes Cleo.

So she shook his hand.

And the GOAT was at her service.


End file.
